Gaze
by HAPPYLU
Summary: His eyes were to be the death of him, that they were. — Alistair/PC


It had been a small glance, merely seconds long, she noted, before the Gray Warden had retracted his eyes to the sky, mouthing a possibly sinful regret to the Maker above. He angled his face back to the Marketplace, slightly red. He shook off the moment and returned from his daydream, eavesdropping on her conversation with an armored dwarf.

The royal bastard in _more ways than one_, I smiled absentmindedly, moreso at the small distance between the two. Morrigan had finally caught up to the group, but judging by her speed, she may have as well been on death row.

The older of two Gray Wardens looked behind, his eyes narrowing at Morrigans' arrival. "You know, speed is something you lose when you get old. Maybe you're getting …_ ol_—…"

He had the right mind frame to keep his mouth shut.

Alistair burned up, his ears the color of fresh blood. "I… well! What I mean is!" he said, his face twisting madly into apologetic frowns and sad whimpers. My face returned to the content smile it had been donning before, such trite issues were nothing to fret about. The dark witch and daughter of the fabled Witch of the Wilds, it seemed, had other plans for the boy.

Morrigan chuckled, enjoying his humiliation. "Maybe you're the one who needs to walk behind us, far away from civil conversation. I'd surely like that."

"You would, wouldn't you?" Alistair muttered, failing to come up with a witty retort. The small, magical elf spun around finally, a small pouch of silvers in her hand and a gold rope necklace in the other.

"Pretty soon I'm going to make all of you walk ahead of me, if you don't shut up," she sighed, blindly giving the merchant his coins. "Except you, Wynne, you're capable of human interaction."

I laughed and clasped a tired hand to my mouth. "But if you made them walk ahead of you, how could Alistair ever bear it?"

He jumped at the sound of his name, turning cautiously at me. I feigned fear, edging away from him and towards the confused elf. Her training at the Circle of Magi prepared for in more ways than she would have ever believed, but she was still so green at this certain matter…

"What?" he said, cocking an eye and a smug smile replacing his earlier frown.

"Well, I've been watching you for a while now—"

"—creepy…"

"Not as creepy as the stare you were giving her, I'm afraid. And since her face had been shied away from you this whole time, I do start to wonder where exactly your eyes had been fixating upon. With great interest I might add."

His smile finally erased from his face in seconds flat, he turned the same grapefruit color and stuck out his hands, shielding himself from the blow. "No, I just look to her for guidance. Yes. Guidance. She is our leader, you very well know that."

I chuckled, and Morrigan sighed contemptuously.

"So aside from being an full on idiot, hilariously unfunny, and incapable of combat, am I supposed to believe he is a leech too?" Morrigan drawled, the word 'leech' leaving her lips like poison. "What guidance could you possibly find on those swaying hips of hers?"

I folded my arms. "Well there goes the fun," I whispered, drained, yet teasingly youthful fragments that left my lips unwillingly. I glanced upon the small elf, holding onto the necklace for dear life, her face pale. Her cheeks shone pink, probably stunned by the fact that he was generally interested in her hind-quarters than flat out disgusted.

"I didn't! _Well_," he defended; his arms back to his sides and his eyes to the floor. "I gazed— glanced in that direction! I am on ever vigilant watch and, and well didn't even see anything… really."

Morrigan's eyes didn't falter. "Of course."

"You're horrible. I hate you."

"We share one thing in common."

Alistair yelped, letting his arms flail freely above his head. His face shone a red brighter than the eyes of an Andrastrate flower. "You're impossible! I'm scouting ahead." he yelled, marching defeated to the next shop of the marketplace. Steps later and the conversation was forgotten, sans for the low mutter of a Magi elf:

"_Well it's too bad Templar's wear such heavy armor."_

And it was a fleeting glance, just moments long, before the younger of two Gray Wardens retracted her eyes to the sky.

--&

**I**nspired by an ingame transaction between Wynne and Alistair, the lovable bloke.  
Dragon Age: Origins. _It has taken my life by storm_.


End file.
